A Gift Only A Mother Could Bestow
by aaliona
Summary: "Hermione resisted the urge to hold her breath as she peeled through the wrapping paper of Narcisss's gift. 'How… nice,' Hermione said as she revealed the large, oriental picture frame. Her first comprehensive thought was, 'Where on earth can I put it'"


**This little one-shot was written for the "You have only 24 hours!" challenge by Miss. Caroline Potter. If you must know, it was written in about five hours while multitasking.**

"Do we have to?" Hermione whined one last time as Draco drug her up the steps.

"For the last time," he sighed, "yes, we do. I agreed to spend Christmas Day with your parents, but you also agreed to spend Christmas Eve with mine."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "I know," she murmured.

Draco chuckled. "Are you still afraid of my mother?"

"That woman is out to get me," she said and narrowed her eyes.

He laughed loudly as the door opened.

"Draco!" Narcissa gushed. "What's so funny, my son?"

"Oh nothing," he replied.

She turned to her son's girlfriend. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hello Narcissa. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine. Won't you two come in?"

Hermione caught her breath as she stepped into the dragon's lair. She and Draco had been living together for a year, much to the shock of the Wizarding world, but Hermione still loathed spending any time with Narcissa. The older woman constantly gave her looks and little digs showing exactly what she felt about them being together. Hermione wasn't good enough and she knew it.

"How have you two been?" the blonde witch asked as she led them into the parlor. "Any issues?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she shot a glance at Draco, who pretended not to notice. "Everything's fine, Mother," he said cheerfully. "Just like it always is."

"If you say so," she replied and breezed into the room.

Hermione sighed to herself, but she sat down on the couch across from Narcissa's settee, happy that Draco.

"You got the presents we flooed, right?" Draco asked.

His mother nodded. "That's right." She smiled in Hermione's direction, but the brunette was sure that Draco missed the menacing shadows of it. "I was cleaning out some of our spare rooms and found the perfect president for you."

Hermione smiled in return. "Sounds great. I can't wait to see it."

"Why don't we save it for last?"

"Sounds fine, Mother," Draco said. "Should we start now?"

They made their way slowly through the presents, but Hermione kept her eye on the large rectangular package in the back. She knew that she hadn't wrapped it herself and seriously doubted Draco had. That could only mean bad news for her.

"What a pretty necklace," Narcissa said as she pulled the string of pearls out of a box. She looked over and the tree. "Only one left," she commented.

Draco picked up the cumbersome present and brought it over. Hermione resisted the urge to hold her breath as she peeled through the wrapping paper. "How… nice," Hermione said as she revealed the large, oriental picture frame. It was thick, at least five inches and made of rich mahogany, but Hermione's very first comprehensive thought was, "Where on earth can I put it?"

…

A week later Hermione returned home from work absolutely exhausted, but she dropped her keys in shock when she saw the menace staring at her from through the living room. "Draco," she called loudly.

She received silence.

"Draco!" she yelled again.

"What?" came the sleepy reply from their bedroom.

"Did you put up the picture frame from your mother?"

"Yeah," he called weakly. "I found a painting that I thought you'd like in one of the guest rooms at the Manor."

Hermione turned the light on and winced, both at the harsh brightness and at how out of place the painting looked in their room. She couldn't believe Draco thought she would like something so odd. It was a magical painting of people milling past a castle wall. Between it and the frame, her wall no longer fit in with the rest of her flat. "Um… Draco."

"Yes?"

"Why?"

She could hear shifting and shuffling before Draco appeared in the doorway looking slightly bedraggled. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Hermione gestured to the painting. "This doesn't exactly fit our house."

Lips pursed, she observed him as he looked around in confusion. "It looks fine to me," he finally concluded.

She sighed. "You don't have much taste for décor."

Draco shrugged and replied, "I have no use for it."

"Draco."

He met her eyes.

"It can't stay," she begged.

She watched his chest rise as Draco thought about it. "Mother won't be pleased."

"We can bring it out when she's coming by," Hermione suggested. "It shouldn't be too hard since we always go there."

His head bobbed from side to side in response. "Sounds fine to me. If it doesn't match, she probably won't like it here anyway. We could repaint it."

"No," she replied flatly. "You mother stressed exactly how old and priceless it is. I refuse to paint it because that will make this situation worse."

Draco may have been naïve, but Hermione knew better. This Christmas present was a test of her ability to cope. If she could make such an ugly picture frame look good in a house it didn't match, Hermione would win.

"At least it will come out on occasion," Draco said.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked incredulously.

He shrugged. "I don't dislike it," he replied. "Besides, the painting is a nice touch."

"Honey," she said firmly, "if you want that to see the light of day, we're getting a different painting."

He started pouting. "But I like it."

She sighed. "So you really want to keep it?"

Draco nodded.

"Fine," she relented. How on earth would she get a painting like that through Narcissa's approval? "I know!" She visibly perked up. "I'll asked Narcissa's opinion."


End file.
